Letters from Kiku Honda
by Stickycig
Summary: Alfred and Kiku, America and Japan. It is WWII, this is Iwo Jima. They've always been friends, and they still are, even as their two nations wage war against each other. Warning: AU, Character death. Based on Clint Eastwood's, "Letters from Iwo Jima."


**OOOOH BOY DO I HAVE A STORY FOR YOU GUYS.** Not really, no.

This was written for a Confucianism-based homework for my History class. Yes, I wrote a Hetalia fic for my homework. **DON'T JUDGE ME. TT^TT**

**I will warn any potential readers in advance of my destructive usage of the Japanese language.** I hate sounding like a weeaboo when I write, but it wouldn't seem right if Kiku didn't speak to Alfred with Japanese honorifics. Please excuse me if it bothers you.

On a final note, I would like to say the following: This entire story was based on a scene from the Clint Eastwood's 2006 film, _Letters from Iwo Jima_. In the movie, an American soldier during World War II is shot down by the Japanese, and under orders from the captain, they are to treat him. Being that the movie is shown from the perspective of the Japanese, the story of the American soldier is never shown, nor is it shown how he is actually treated. This story is a possible additional scene to the movie, despite the fact that the name of the soldier shot down wasn't Alfred.

That being said, I suppose I should also add a disclaimer: **I don't own APH or LFIJ and all that jive, you've read this a million times before but whatever.**

Please enjoy!

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**_Letters From Kiku Honda_**

_"Good morning class, I'd like to welcome our new student, Ki… Kiku, from Japan!"_

_A very dull, unexcited looking class briefly glanced at the young Japanese male who was currently cringing at the mispronunciation of his name. He bowed to the class, earning several odd looks._

_Sighing, the teacher decided to quickly get Kiku accustomed to this new school and get on with the day's teachings. "Okay, Kiku why don't you take a seat…" The teacher's voice faded as his eyes scanned the room for an empty desk._

_"Over there, next to Alfred Jones!" A finger was pointed to the near back of the room where a head of messy blonde hair could be seen resting on a desk._

_"Alfred!" The teacher yelled. Shocked by the sudden sound, said head bolted straight up and internally tried to think of an excuse to why its owner was sleeping during class._

_"Alfred, the first lesson hasn't even started, please try to stay awake. Kiku." The teacher nudged his head toward Kiku while the boy named Alfred briefly nodded before closing his. Kiku slightly bowed once more and made his way to the back of the room._

_After having sat down and placed his books on the desk beside him, Kiku turned to face his new classmate._

_The American blinked his bright blue eyes at him, and presented Kiku with the broadest, most sparkling smile the foreigner had ever seen, accompanied with what Kiku would later learn was called a "thumbs up."_

* * *

Blood, death, destruction, war. It was everywhere, Alfred couldn't run from it.

All he wanted to do was get out of here, to go home, rest in his bed in his house where his wife and kids were waiting for him. But he was not home, he was no where near it, in fact, he was approximately god knows how many miles away from anywhere he could be remotely safe, on the stench-ridden, normally uninhabited Japanese island of Iwo Jima. Normally uninhabited meaning there where an unknown number of Japanese soldiers hiding in caves and pits all across said island, waiting to kill every single one of them.

Not that Alfred would complain, as much as he would like to. He understood, they were defending their homeland. Most of them probably didn't have a say of whether or not Japan entered this bloody war, but he was defending his homeland as well, and-

Alfred's train of thought was cut off as several shots were fired right beside him, taking down Tony, one of his many crewmates on the way to the island. The moment Alfred looked down to see his soon to be dead acquaintance, a rifle located approximately eighty feet away fired 3 more shots, two of them missing Alfred by merely a quarter of an inch, the third hitting him directly in the stomach. Blood gushed out quickly staining his already dark uniform, his hands clutching his stomach and his vision going blurry as he collapsed onto the ground with a loud '_thud_.'

Hushed voices and loud gunshots could be heard. His vision was still completely blank. Where was he? He tried to open his mouth and scream, but his efforts were in vain. He couldn't move; he felt as if he were a mime trapped in one of his own boxes. He was paralyzed, he could barely breath, and-

A familiar voice entered his mind, who did it belong to? Where had he heard it before? It sounded pained. Another voice cut through the darkness, this time speaking a phrase he could understand, he had learned it from Kiku all those years ago…

"Honda-san, daijoubu desu ka?" "Daijoubu desu." The achingly familiar voice spoke once more, the voice in his head vaguely wondered if Kiku had taught him how to reply to that question, wait. Kiku? No wonder that voice had sounded so familiar, it was-!

Alfred's upper body jolted straight up, his blue eyes now obscured by war blinked open, and scream of agony was let out from his mouth. From the corner of his eyes he could see his captors were now alert, watching his every move like hawks. Blinking at them, he laid his head back down on the hard pillow, still panting after having awoken so suddenly. The hand, which he had placed on his stomach when he awoke, was brought up to slick his hair out of his face; it was only then that he noticed it was covered with blood. His blood. He was suddenly blown away by a sharp pain in his stomach, his face cringed as he remember what had happened, Tony had been shot dead, and he, and he-!

The horror of the realization of what would be done to him was shown on his face. He could see one of his captors raise his eyebrows, nudging to the one beside him. Kiku. He whispered something into his ear, something Alfred could neither hear nor understand had he heard it anyway. His friend (no, no, **NO**, they were enemies now, he couldn't forget that!) quickly made his way toward the opposite side of the narrow cave where Alfred was laying.

Taking a rag, he dabbed it in a tiny pool of water, and began to clean Alfred. He started off with his forehead, where the American had recently smudged blood. As the cloth made it's way down Alfred's torso, he managed to choke out, "K-Kiku…" Immediately, his narrow eyes grew fierce as a hint of rage appeared on his features. He took a long, deep breath, and continued cleaning the wounded enemy soldier in front of him.

"Sorry, you must be confusing me with someone else." he spoke English, his accent horribly affected by the phonetics of his native tongue.

Alfred didn't understand, this was Kiku, right? He looked exactly like him, even his voice sounded like Kiku's, but… Kiku, despite being a foreigner when coming to America, had a perfect American accent. It was almost as if he had been studying the language all his life, he even bothered to use proper grammar in his speech. But this man, this Kiku look-a-like, Alfred could barely understand what he was saying.

Alfred turned his head just a little to the left, so that his eyes could meet with those of the man treating him. They were the same exact shade as Kiku's; observant and wise just like those of his old friend. In them he could see sadness, pain, regret, and it dawned upon Alfred that this really was Kiku, but why was he acting like he didn't know him?

The sound of his heart pounding in his ears nearly blocked out everything, but Alfred somehow managed to hear shuffling on the other side of the cave. The men sitting there had stood up, nodded to Kiku, and left to another part of the deep, partially illuminated cave. Kiku breathed a sigh of relief. Having finished, he squeezed the bloody water back into a bowl and rested his head on the back of the cave. After a long, tense silence, Kiku spoke. "What are you doing here?" he asked impatiently.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" replied Alfred through harsh breaths. "I didn't wake up one day and say, 'Hey, war sounds like fun, I'll go become a Marine!'" Kiku continued to watch him through thoughtful eyes. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't have gone. If I had a choice, we wouldn't be in this war in the place, and I wouldn't be here… but I suppose you're in the same situation as I am, aren't you?" Kiku nodded.

"The world is changing, Alfred." He spoke in a whisper. "All the blank spaces on the maps have long been filled, now it's only a matter of who owns what. As long as that is the case, each nation will have the goal of being the strongest, the most powerful. And as long as that is the case, there will be war."

Alfred smiled, a sort of sad smile that made Kiku's stomach sick with guilt. "You haven't changed a bit, Kiku." Alfred finally said, that once 100-watt smile still on his face, only now much, much duller, dull like that time Kiku told him the truth about why he was in America. It brought him pain to know that he was partially the cause of his friend's sadness.

"But you have, Alfred…-kun." Alfred closed his eyes; he seemed to be at peace now.

The moment a scream was let out of Alfred's mouth, however, Kiku had rushed to his side in attempt to aid him. The pain had dulled before, but now it was back full-force, tearing Alfred's every nerve apart. "W-water," he panted. "Kiku, water." he said again, squeezing his eyes as if it was all a bad dream, as if he would wake up any minute and he would be a school boy again, free and laughing without a care for the world. Kiku's urgent sounding voice cut through his fantasy.

"Alfred-kun, we are very low on water, even for our soldiers. I can try to find something, but I don't know if I'll be successful."

Alfred managed to nod his head, but before Kiku turned to leave, he grabbed his hand. It was cold and shaking. Alfred looked Kiku in the eyes, brown meeting blue once more, and spoke loudly, as if for the world to hear. "You're the best." He smiled once more, releasing Kiku's hand.

He nodded, and ran off to fetch water for his wounded friend.

* * *

When he returned, with only a small glass, half empty (half full, Alfred would have retorted), he called out to his friend. When he did not answer, Kiku set the glass down on the ground and quickly kneeled down beside the futon on which Alfred was resting.

Kiku took the hand that had held his only a quarter of an hour ago. It was cold and lifeless. Alfred was dead.

The reality had dawned upon him, but he could not bring himself to cry. Kiku stood there, above his friend's unmoving body, his own body just as still. His hand, usually calm and steady, was now shaking, but he could not name with what.

Was it fear? Surely not, what did he have to be afraid of? There were only two other emotions that he could name in his mind, those being sadness and anger. Sadness at the reality of the situation. Anger at himself. Always anger at himself.

It was Kiku, it was Alfred's old friend, who had shot him in the first place, not knowing who his target was. His hand, shaking more and more by the minute, slowly made its way down to Kiku's waist.

The dark haired man closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, one that was supposed to calm him. It didn't work. Almost upon instinct he reached for the sword that had been at his side the whole time, and unsheathed it.

He guided the sword with his now steadying arm so that the point was right at the center of his stomach.

Without a second thought, or at least, before he had the change to have one, Kiku plunged the sword into his own stomach, as if hoping it would dissolve his sins.

Alfred was his first true friend, his companion; they were almost as close as brothers. Kiku would never forgive himself for what he had done; this was the only way to die with honor remaining in his heart.

Slowly, with all the strength he had remaining, he pulled the sword out of his stomach. The last thing he could see was his own blood gushing onto Alfred's body as he collapsed on top of the American corpse.

* * *

_"Hey Kiku, is it true that the only reason you came to America was to study?" Alfred said with a somewhat distraught look on his face only moments after he collapsed onto the soft grass of the field that overlooked the town. Kiku, still sitting, looked down at him, flushed. How did he know?_

_"Y-yes, Jones-san… it's true." The Japanese youth looked down at his feet, his face still red. Why was he being embarrassed in the first place? Surely this was nothing to be ashamed of. The American's everlasting smile suddenly seemed to fade into something far duller._

_"So…" Realizing the importance of the situation, the American sat up once more, now facing Kiku. "Does that mean once you get out of university, you'll go home to Japan?" Kiku could see the tears in Alfred's sky blue eyes ready to break the barrier and fall out any minute._

_How was he supposed to tell him the truth? They had been best friends since high school, he couldn't just stroll up to him one day and say, "Hello Jones-san, the only reason I came to this godforsaken land was to learn, and now that that's through, I'll be going home now! Thanks for pretending to be my friend for these past couple years, bye!" But he knew that he couldn't lie to the American._

_Slowly, he nodded his head, the small breeze now being used to his advantage blew his jet-black hair in front of his eyes._

_"Oh…" Alfred replied, all life seemingly drained from his speech. After a brief moment of silence, Kiku raised his head once more; his chocolate brown eyes meeting with Alfred's blue ones. There was something in them that he had never seen before, sadness, but he could also see compassion, understanding, and something else he couldn't pinpoint. Could that have been what people called "determination"? Before Kiku could finish analyzing them, Alfred's eyes shut closed. A seemingly broad smile soon stretch across his face, it wasn't as bright as all his previous ones had been, but it was certainly just as inspiring._

_"In that case, Kiku, make sure you have a guest room in you're house, because I'll definitely be visiting you!" The American proclaimed loudly, and pulled Kiku into a tight embrace, causing his usually pale face to turn the color of a tomato. "Okay… Alfred-kun."_

_Years later, the young American would find himself nearing the shores of Japan. It would not be in the way he had expected_.

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Please leave a review!**

I have been in the Hetalia fandom for a while now, but this is my first time writing fanfiction for it, so I need my readers to let me know whether or not this is my cup of tea (no pun intended)!

Please and thank you. :)


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